


Recapitulation

by crookperkdeck



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Mentions, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, M/M, Some serious stuff but mostly cheesy stuff, Struggling with compulsive heterosexuality, relationship progression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13675014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookperkdeck/pseuds/crookperkdeck
Summary: Dallas creates a first, amongst a sea of memories.





	Recapitulation

              Dallas had been in this position too many times to count.

              The first time was still vivid to him, as if it hadn’t been more than two years ago. When it had happened, he remembered, he had actually attempted forgetting it by choice, out of shame or embarrassment or god knows what, but it was hard to eliminate from your memory the first time another man slept on your chest. The weight and warmth of it, the steady breaths on your own body—that was a kind of irreplaceable intimacy.

              And he shouldn’t have even had Hoxton—someone he was supposed to act as a leader to—with him in that way. He understood then why businesses forbid workplace relationships, because he could have easily been seen as taken down a couple notches, undeserving of respect. This was him at his most vulnerable and he had given away the idea without a second thought, and it had frustrated and confused him because it was unlike him. But this wasn’t new to his interactions with Hoxton, to act so beside himself.

              Dallas had felt it in their first few weeks together, something that clicked in their conversations that made his chest warm with an unrecognizable feeling. Something that made him more impulsive to get closer to him, to extend their time together, to feel that warmth even longer. And that night, he had replaced that warmth with the burn of alcohol in a celebratory trip to the bar with the crew. His vision became fuzzy, as well as whatever rational thing in his mind had been holding him back.

              Maybe they shouldn’t have used the company as an excuse to get drunk, to find themselves at Dallas’s apartment with hands on each other, but it was the kind of liquid confidence Dallas had needed to break the leftover tension between them. He was still figuring out his sexuality then, at what felt like 20 years behind everyone else, so maybe it could have never happened without that sort of excuse.

              In that apartment, from what could have been exhaustion from the night’s events, or how late it was, or even some obligation Hoxton felt Dallas owed him—Hoxton had fallen asleep on him. And Dallas, trapped from the fear of moving enough to wake him up, laid there slowly sobering up and unable to follow suit with Hoxton. His mind was buzzing the more he processed the night’s events and what position he was in, making sleep impossible.

              He hadn’t really thought of taking it this far until he had been caught up in it all, reveling in how it felt and wanting to see how much Hoxton had wanted out of it. He hadn’t expected it to be like this, but maybe he should have, because he knew in some moments where their conversations were pleasant, he felt himself aching for this kind of contact. And now that Hoxton was asleep with him, with his own realizations settling within himself, it felt nice. Peaceful. Whether it was unlike him or not.

              And there was a side of Hoxton that Dallas got to see that was unlike him, too. In the now quiet of the apartment, there was a contrast to every side of Hoxton that Dallas had seen before. This was no longer the kind of Hoxton that was always speaking, yelling, fighting, laughing. This had all come to a halt, to fall asleep, completely trusting in Dallas.

              It was the first time Dallas had seen him with his hair down, too, and so it was like an entirely different image of the same man. This was something Hoxton had wanted to share with him alone, and that made Dallas want to draw him up in his arms to bring him closer. He hadn’t, of course, and just took to falling asleep when his head stopped racing.

              The next time they found themselves together in bed had been after their first date together. Dallas had asked him out on it, feeling a kind of obligation to do it to apologize over the messiness of the night at the bar. At least, that’s what he told himself before asking.

              Dallas remembered dressing up that night having been tricky, as there wasn’t really a way to shake up his outfits when their dress code on heists was all suits. He ended up choosing his flashiest one—a deep purple one that did seem to impress Hoxton, so he felt some pride in that.

              It was much easier to stay sober then where it was just the two of them, limiting themselves to only a glass of wine or two to be paired with their meal (Dallas the one that had two, admittedly). As a result, they were more purposeful in their actions, and when they kissed at the end of the night, their faces were hot enough that they couldn’t maintain it for long. They both witnessed each other’s embarrassed smiles when they pulled back, and eventually agreed to go to Hoxton’s apartment to conclude the date.

              The act of sharing each other’s private homes shouldn’t have felt as intimate to Dallas then. In the past, he had brought women over to his places of residence many times, and in turn had gone over to theirs. But maybe it was because it seemed more like a contractual thing then, something required as part of the process of sleeping with them. Maybe because they didn’t want to stick around in the same way Hoxton did in their nights together, getting comfortable in Dallas’s warmth. Hoxton was unafraid of doing it, maybe had even been waiting to do so, and Dallas welcomed the gesture.

              Neither had fallen asleep as quickly then as the first night, and so they took to sharing a cigarette for the smoke to make them tired. Before lighting it, Hoxton told Dallas that the brand was better than anything he had smoked before. He was right, but Dallas had been so accustomed to his own that he craved that familiar rawness after taking the first puff of Hoxton’s. He didn’t tell him that, of course, since he thought to be acting like a guest, but talking about something so ordinary led the conversation on.

              Dallas didn’t remember the details of all that was said there, but a statement from Hoxton had always stuck out in his mind.

              “ _Can you imagine if I’d turned down Bain’s offer and told him to fuck off?_ ” He said, smile edging his mouth as he spoke. “ _Would’ve gotten to stick around in England, the crew would’ve had some other twat and fallen apart, and we wouldn’t be here right now. Came that bloody close_.”

              It was a bout of confidence, as Hoxton was probably just satisfied with himself, and Dallas didn’t respond to it with anything but a humoring smile. Now, however, as he recalled it, he knew what he would say if he heard it again.

              “ _I’m glad it got to be different_.”

              He knew he would say it, in full confidence, because it _had_ all gone downhill in that way. The night after Hoxton had been taken into custody, the space he had occasionally taken with Dallas felt colder than ever before. And every succeeding night, it felt chilled to the point where Dallas was unable to sleep, and he moved to the couch with tiredness in his eyes and an ache in his chest he still failed to completely understand.

              It was as if the angry and betrayed phantom of Hoxton was haunting him; taking the shape of the last glance Dallas had gotten of him in the escape van before it drove away at Dallas’s order.

              And it came back to haunt him in the flesh, when they finally had the resources to get him back. Two years were longer than Dallas remembered, and Hoxton came out of it with a scar etched across one half of his face and an attitude more venomous than before. Dallas himself had come out with nothing more than a burning guilt in his chest, burned hotter by what he had done with the women he had been with in those two years to try to replace some feeling within himself—betraying Hoxton even further.

              Seeing Hoxton again made him slowly understand what that feeling he was trying to replace was, but some part of him told him he would still never get to have it again. Hoxton showed he wanted to be without him, ignoring or arguing with him whenever Dallas tried to push for an interaction. Dallas learned later that it was out of wanting to project any broken-heartedness or feelings of betrayal, but at that moment he felt it was hopeless. He didn’t deserve to feel anything but coldness between them, to never see any softness in Hoxton’s expression directed at him.

              Dallas had still wanted to amend something, however. Not for the sake of acting like everything was back to normal, because they had both clearly changed in each other’s absence. He looked for giving Hoxton closure over his actions and explain his feelings after that time. He had had a lot of time to dwell on what he wanted to be with Hoxton, or any relationship, and the man deserved honesty.

              Talking about it over those months did do some good, albeit slowly. The words shared became less sharp, and they eliminated any ways they had previously avoided each other. They had changed, sure, but the men behind everything was still the same. Instead of guilt, Dallas felt fondness growing in him again.

              Dallas saw Hoxton’s hair growing, too. From his brief testimonial, Hoxton had cut it himself with prison resources for an indiscernible reason, and why he was letting it grow back out seemed similarly unknown. What was known was that, with every day it wasn’t magically the same length as when he was still heisting, he was constantly messing with it and grumbling to himself.

              Dallas remembered it so clearly because the first time Hoxton showed to be even mildly satisfied with the length was after Dallas had been able to feel it through his hands as he kissed him.

              That kiss had led into a night that Dallas had honestly labeled as embarrassing, purely because they got to do what he had been yearning to do after so long, and it was obvious in the desperation of his actions. Every touch felt like electricity was wound through his hands; it went through his body to reach his brain where he could only have his emotions repeated back to him rather than conscious thought. He was grateful, relieved, _happy_ that he could actually be with Hoxton like this again.

              What made it truly embarrassing is that Hoxton saw his desperation, and Dallas knew that it in the moment Hoxton had that smug smile on his face. Whatever saving grace out there made no teasing words come out of that smile, thank god, and Dallas wanted to say that it was because Hoxton was feeling the same way and saying anything would just reveal his composure to be similarly broken. But that could just be wishful thinking.

              When they finally laid down together, Hoxton had distanced himself from Dallas in choosing his position to sleep. Dallas guessed that it was to not push boundaries and make him assume that everything between them was sorted now. There were still issues to bring up, but that had amended enough that they could be together like this without hardship.

              Come morning, however, when Dallas woke up, he saw that Hoxton had migrated over to him in the night, using him to sleep on. He didn’t think it was intentional—it was winter, and Dallas never kept enough covers on the bed to satisfy Hoxton, so he needed more warmth—but to be in that position again made a sentimental smile appear on his face that he couldn’t hold back.

              Time had passed since then, along with a lot more conversations, but the same smile was on his face now. It was inevitable when he played through all these memories, lost in thought as he stared at the darkness of his bedroom ceiling.

              Hoxton had fallen asleep for what must have been a half an hour ago. He had come to Dallas’s apartment with the claim that the laundromat serving as their safehouse was too uncomfortable, and he wanted to sleep in a bed. Dallas felt like it was wrong to rouse him because of that, but there was an impulse crawling in him that needed Hoxton to be awake.

              “Hoxton,” he whispered, to no response. He didn’t know how to wake people up if it wasn’t an accident or emergency but wanted to do this as tenderly as possible. “Jim, wake up.”

              When nothing happened, he took to gently shake him a couple times, which yielded better results. A frown creased Hoxton’s face, unhappy with the disturbance, but Dallas did it for a little longer until he was greeted with Hoxton’s eyes opening.

              As his first real action of being awake, Hoxton gave him a tired, unimpressed look. “What? I don’t smell a fire, so unless you have half a mind to start one—”

              “No fires,” Dallas responded. He brushed stray hairs out of Hoxton’s face, busying himself to gain the composure to say what he wanted.

              “Hm. I don’t hear any police sirens either. So I’m wondering why you bothered waking me up at this hour, because if it’s not for either of those—”

              “I love you,” he said, steadying his hand at the side of Hoxton’s face.

              The words felt heavy in the air between them, as they had never been shared before. Never in a direct way, at least. Most anything intimate they felt between each other was unspoken, as they had been together long enough to know how to respond to it. So saying this now was more of just a gesture after all the remembering Dallas had done tonight.

              Hoxton’s expression softened, laugh escaping him at what must have been the suddenness of it. He took a while to formulate himself, and Dallas began thinking he should have let him at least wake up a little more first.

              When Hoxton’s eyes met his again, he said, “You couldn’t have waited until morning? You had to make me think of fires and cops first?”

              Dallas laughed a little back. “Yeah, I did.”

              Hoxton leaned forward to kiss him then, and Dallas reveled in the familiar warmth of his face on his enough to smile into it.

              “I love you too,” Hoxton said, in the space between their lips.

              After saying that, Hoxton didn’t waste any time getting in a sleeping position again to fall back asleep. He moved Dallas with him to make sure they were both comfortable, and when he was settled Dallas couldn’t help pulling him closer to his chest. There was no protest, and they went silent in the apartment’s darkness to fall asleep.

              Dallas’s head replayed Hoxton’s words a few times in his head before he did so, hoping he could find himself like this on another night, recalling this memory like all the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Valentines Day to get something out, so I hope you all like it! Feel free to comment or anything, and if you want any more content from me visit me at my blog https://crookperkdeck.tumblr.com/ !


End file.
